


Heavenly Wrath

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: D/s, Kitchen Sex, M/M, PWP, Sub!Dean, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean reaches beneath the table to fist himself, he feels the solid line of the angel’s chest on his back.</p><p>“No,” Cas growls and he tightens his grip on Dean’s hips renewing the finger shaped bruises that were just only beginning to fade.</p><p>“Cas, please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavenly Wrath

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my lovely [literaryoblivion](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com/) in response to a very lovely, very angsty [ask she sent me](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/post/47393468162/dean-im-sorry-he-whispered-against-deans-neck) for the "send me fluff/smut/angst and I'll send some back" project I was running on [my tumblr](http://castielsangelpeen.tumblr.com/).

Deans not sure how he ended up with his face pressed firmly against the kitchen table and his pants and boxer briefs around his ankles, but he sure as hell isn’t going to complain about it. Not when Cas, who mojoed some lube right into his eager hands (which, awesome), is two fingers deep, scissoring him open in achingly calculated movements and crooking his fingers in a blissfully teasing manner inside Dean.

“Come on, Cas!” Dean huffs out against the table, dick painfully hard, pre-come beading at the tip, “please.”

“Patience Dean,” the angel’s deep voice rumbles in his ear and yeah, that’s not helping  _at all_.

Cas maneuvers in a third finger and works Dean open to completion before removing his fingers. Dean let’s out what he’ll never admit to being a whine before he hears the soft clink of Cas’s belt buckle and the quiet slump of his pants hitting the ground. Then finally, Cas is lining himself up and pushing in slow and steady.

Gripping Dean’s hips with a controlled force Dean will never get tired of, Castiel pulls out to the tip before thrusting back in, rolling his hips as he does it causing a pleasured whimper to escape Dean’s lips.

As the angel picks up a rhythm fucking into Dean, Dean starts to lose himself; moaning each time Cas hits his prostate, a light sheen of sweat collecting on his lower back and around his neck where his t-shirt is growing bothersome. He grips the table as best he can but it’s hardly good enough. Cas is coming undone on top of him, unleashing his heavenly wrath into Dean’s ass and it hurts so good. Cas is mostly quiet save the moans he’s allowing and it drives Dean crazy to know that Cas has reached the point of simply  _feeling_.

Dean, on the other hand, is not quiet. He begs Cas, “ _harder_ ,  _faster_ ,  _please_ ” but Cas is the one in control. He’s the one calling the shots and so he continues his balanced rhythm taking care of Dean in a way Dean doesn’t even know how to ask for.

When Dean reaches beneath the table to fist himself, he feels the solid line of the angel’s chest on his back.

“No,” Cas growls and he tightens his grip on Dean’s hips renewing the finger shaped bruises that were just only beginning to fade.

“Cas,  _please_.”

But Cas isn’t ready for that. Not yet. And Dean knows it’s because Dean always spills before Cas, can never hang on long enough for a synchronized release. Cas is planning things just right so they can topple over the edge together.

When Cas’s thrusts grow deeper and faster, he finally reaches around and takes Dean’s throbbing dick in his hand, mirroring his own thrusts with his fist, twisting at the head, agile fingers sliding down the shaft with mind-blowing precision. Dean’s body is a taut line of tension now, anticipating his orgasm with painful readiness.

“Cas, I’m gonna-“

“Dean,” Castiel chokes out low and coarse just before his hips stutter and Dean feels the heat of Castiel’s cum painting his insides. Dean let’s go at that moment, white building at the corner of his eyes, breath coming in heaving gasps and he reaches back, grabs hold of whatever part of Cas is closest and holds on for those few euphoric seconds before he’s slumping sated and satisfied against the table.

He’s barley aware as Cas mojos them clean and into Castiel’s bed, clothes in a pile on the floor as if they’d never been in the kitchen at all, naked limbs immediately tangling together. As Cas pulls back the covers, Dean’s already curling into Cas, resting his head where shoulder meets chest and throwing an arm over the angle’s flank, dropping a lazy kiss on Cas’s chest. Cas wraps his arm around Dean, pulls the comforter over their bodies and kisses the top of the hunter’s head before they’re both sliding into the quiet refines of post-coital sleep.


End file.
